


Busman's Honeymoon

by mydogwatson



Series: The Postcard Tales [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Honeymoon, M/M, Marriage, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally there has been a wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busman's Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that a bit of fluff might be nice on a Sunday afternoon.

Well, of course there would be a murder.

Whatever power ruled the universe [or at least the part of the universe that contained John Watson] would undoubtedly have thought that the best way of celebrating the laughably belated nuptials of William Sherlock Scott Holmes and John Hamish Watson would be to provide a murder. A bit rough on the victim, admittedly, but that was the way of the universe.

And since Sherlock was sometimes the darling of fate, this was not just some ordinary, boring murder, but a locked room killing, which ranked second on the Holmesian scale of interest, right behind clever serial killers.

And I married the man, John thought wryly. Of my own free will. 

So, all in all, he should not have been surprised when on their first morning in the Mycroft-provided honeymoon suite [which fact Sherlock had complained about loudly and vociferously for exactly 82 seconds before grabbing John by the lapels of his new suit and pushing him down onto the ridiculously plush bed], they were awakened by a doom-filled knocking on the door of the suite.

John groaned and shoved his head under the feather pillow. “Who the hell is that?” he mumbled.

Sherlock was sitting up, propped against the padded headboard. He had obviously been awake for some time, as he was texting something on his phone. “Don’t know,” he replied cheerfully. “Room service, perhaps?”

John gave a muffled snort. “Chance would be a fine thing. I don’t really think that you decided to order breakfast. Though it would have been a lovely gesture.”

There was a pause and when Sherlock spoke, his voice was soft. “I sometimes make lovely gestures. Don’t I?”

John reached a hand out and patted a bare thigh. “Yes, you do.”

“Perhaps not as often as I should?”

It was probably a good thing that the smile John gave was hidden. “More often than I might expect.”

Sherlock huffed, but before the conversation could resume, the knocking started again. He slid out of the bed and headed for the door, still naked.  
“Oi,” John said, peeking out from under the pillow. “That arse belongs to me now, so let’s not share it with the hotel staff.”

Sherlock made a sound that coming from anyone else might have been called a giggle. He reached for his dressing gown that had been tossed on a chair the night before and wrapped it around himself. “This arse has belonged to you for a very long time now,” he said with an edge of gruffness. 

John thought that no one had ever said anything more romantic to him than that.

“Besides,” Sherlock continued. “That sounds more like a policeman’s knock than a bellhop’s.” He opened the door.

It was a good thing John had enjoyed those few words from his new husband, as the next twenty-seven hours of his honeymoon were not romantic at all, filled as they were with foot chases through alleyways, bad coffee, and even a brief exchange of gunfire.

When they were finally back in the suite, having a much-delayed celebration breakfast, Sherlock, of course, disputed the fact that romance had been lacking in the previous hours.

John looked at his grin and tousled curls, at the faint smear of strawberry jam on his upper lip, and he could not really argue. Instead, he just leaned closer and kissed the jam away.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title from: Busman's Honeymoon by Dorothy L. Sayers


End file.
